


A Light in the Dark

by AyeItzDa_Willooga



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Child Abuse, Dominance, Eating Disorder, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, Fluff, Freeform, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, PTSD, Past Relationship(s), Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, emotional distress, extreme slow-burn, suicide triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2019-07-25 11:32:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16196690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AyeItzDa_Willooga/pseuds/AyeItzDa_Willooga
Summary: Draco is struggling from PTSD - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder - following the Battle of Hogwarts. His life has been turned upside down, what with his family being torn apart, and he is beginning to see himself, and others, in a new light. To make everything all the more confusing, he is being subjected to an old and growing attraction to the Wizarding World's hero.Meanwhile, Harry suspects Draco may be suffering more than he lets on, noticing the drastic change in his body, and his sudden drop of self-esteem. His own life is becoming a mess, what with a certain writer exposing his early years of Hogwarts, and people chasing after him for the truth.How will the two of them react to the release of a prisoner of Azkaban whom the Wizarding World expected to be locked up for many years to come?





	1. Hatred

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, Drarry fans! I am excited to start writing this fan-fiction. I would like to first of all say I was inspired by another Drarry fan-fic, here on Archive of Our Own, so I suggest you go check it out. It is called "Say My Name", a beautiful story by one of the amazing authors on this website.  
> Now, I am not J.K. Rowling, or anything like her. She is what I call a professional author, and me? I'm just a schoolgirl. I write in my spare time, and this is just something I wanted to share with all of you. Please leave comments and let me know what you all think.  
> I am hoping to make this a long fan-fic, full of fluff, angst, and emotions.  
> I hope you enjoy! ~

Draco hated himself. Standing naked in front of his full-length mirror, he sighed heavily at his ugly body. Pale skin, excess fat, bloodshot eyes, gaunt face. Everything about him screamed hideous, including the scar. _Especially_ the scar. He didn’t bother looking at it. He knew it was there, on his left forearm, collapsed in on itself but still evidently a skull and snake: the remnants of the Dark Mark.

He hadn’t taken it willingly. It was only meant to exist on him so he could save his family – the family he was saving being his mother and himself. It had been obvious Potter would destroy the Dark Lord for good, and he had known the moment his father stepped into the courtroom, he’d receive a lengthy sentence in Azkaban. He wasn’t entirely sure he even missed him, if he was honest.

Shaking his thoughts away, he absent-mindedly traced the scars on his chest, left from Potter cursing him two years ago. The skin was rough under his fingers, and he exhaled as he remembered the pain, the blood. It made him think of the things He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would have made him do had he won the war. The thought of it made him sick.

He dressed, a simple light blue t-shirt that hung off his tall frame, and jeans. Muggle clothing was better in his opinion. More comfortable and, to him, attractive.

Draco folded clothing item after clothing item, before placing them into his trunk. He knew his mother would have wanted him to take advantage of McGonagall’s offer, and graduate from Hogwarts after an eighth year. The idea of returning made him feel faint and horrified, but he needed to finish his NEWTS in order to take up the potions career he’d been working for most of his life.

*

Platform 9¾ was packed as always, with first years excitedly pointing as the train pulled up. Draco pulled the hood of his jacket down further as some parents dragged their kids away from him, noticing his obvious platinum hair. He boarded the train, and sat in an empty compartment, his trunk at his feet. He rubbed his temple as waves of anxiety crashed over him, and placed his face in his hands. He needn’t look up to know the door had opened.

 _Here we go,_ he thought.

“Oh, bloody hell, of course the only empty compartment would be occupied by Malfoy,” he heard a familiar voice say in disgust.

“Nice to see you too, Weasel,” he retorted, looking up with a glare.

The redhead's hair was messier than usual, something Draco hadn’t expected to be possible, and his face was fixed into a look of distaste.

“Leave him, Ron,” he heard Potter say nonchalantly as he dragged his trunk in.

“But it’s Malfoy,” the Weasel responded grumpily.

“Yes, Ronald, and this is the only spot to sit, so stop whining,” came Granger’s voice, and although she sounded somewhat friendly, she was clearly being cautious.

Draco shifted closer to the window as Potter took a seat beside him, and he felt his cheeks burn as the raven-haired boy’s arm brushed against his.

“Harry, have you seen the Daily Prophet this morning?” Granger started. “Rita Skeeter is all over you again. Potter reached forward and took the newspaper from her, and frowned.

**The Boy Who Lived; Are there dark secrets?**

The title was disgusting to Draco, and reading further, he slumped back, aware it was about Potter defending him at his trial.

**-so now we must  ask: what was the _real_ reason Mr. Potter defended Mr. Malfoy? Does he really care about him, or is there something sinister he is planning that requires an ex-death eater?**

“This is so unfair!” Potter shouted, tossing the paper away. He facepalmed and sighed. “I thought this had died down by now. It is just… outrageous!”

“What’s outrageous?” asked a soft voice from the compartment door. Draco turned to see the She-Weasel standing there, smirking ever-so-slightly at the baffled boy. Her expression turned sour when she caught sight of Draco.

“Why are you lot sharing a compartment with _Malfoy_ of all people?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

“It was the only spot with room,” her brother said without looking up from the newspaper he’d snatched from Granger. “Anyway, you’re right Harry. This is dreadful.”

“Oh,” the She-Weasel said, looking to the newspaper, “that. Yeah. Uh.”

“Don’t worry about it Ginny,” Potter said, smiling at her gently. “The ministry won’t believe Skeeter, so neither will anyone else.” The Weaslette nodded and took a seat beside her boyfriend, and Draco’s stomach lurched when she kissed Potter’s cheek.

“Do you think this because it’s about you, Potter?” Draco spat. “I mean, if that’s the case, people _will_ believe it since it is also about _me_.”

“Shove off, Malfoy,” Potter snarled, and Draco sighed. “I said the _Ministry_ wouldn’t believe it, and the people follow the Ministry, so everything will be fine. No need to be so dramatic about it.”

“Whatever,” he said plainly, turning back to the window.

“As much as I hate to say this, Harry, Malfoy may have a point,” Hermione said quietly. Surprised at the compliment, he turned to her. “Oh come on, Malfoy,” she said heatedly, “we all know you aren’t a complete idiot. Always got top of the class for potions, alongside me, of course.”

“Quit complimenting him,” Weasley said crossly, “and get to the point.”

“Alright, Ronald, calm down. My point is, Malfoy’s family has not been very, dare I say popular, as of late. His father is in Azkaban after all.” Draco felt himself tense at that, and looked away to hide the oncoming wave of tears. “And, while he isn’t his father, people still have reason to believe he might be up to something.”

“Mainly because he nearly always was up to something,” the Weaslette said cruelly.

“I am _right here_ ,” Draco said loudly, clenching his fists.

“Well, just so the rest of you know, Malfoy and I aren’t plotting to take over the world,” Potter announced. “Now, can we _please_ change the subject? This one is kind of sore.”

“I agree,” Draco answered, and murmurs of agreement floated around the compartment.

Draco endured listening to Potter and his friends talk about their classes, and his stomach sank as he realized how many of them he was also in. They would all be taking Potions, Charms, Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts together, and Granger would be in his Arithmancy and Ancient Runes classes as well. The only class he’d have to himself would be Astronomy and, although he wasn’t all that good at it, he was glad the others wouldn’t be there to disturb him. He also had his private potions lessons with his master once a week, so he technically had two classes without them.

“Anything from the trolley, dears?” the trolley lady asked as she trundled in. Draco watched as Potter’s friends bought sweets, Weasel spending about five galleons.

“What about you?” she asked, looking at Potter.

“No thank you,” he responded with a polite smile. Seeing it made Draco’s heart flutter.

“And you, dearie?” she continued, looking at him now.

“Uh, no thanks, I’m not hungry,” he said, trying to smile like Potter.

It was true. He wasn’t.

He hardly ever was.


	2. Surprises

“This really isn’t a good place to be snogging, you two,” Harry said as he came through the portrait of the eighth years’ Common Room. Ron and Hermione sprung apart at his voice, blush creeping into their cheeks.

“Sorry mate,” Ron said with a small cough. “We haven’t been assigned rooms yet.”

The eighth years were staying in a different room: the once forbidden room on the third floor. Instead of it being the dark, wide room holding a huge three-headed dog, it was now alight with colour, a crest for each house displayed on the walls above matching sofas. The wallpaper was a light cream, making all the houses’ ribbons over their designated area stand out spectacularly. Harry thought the staff had done a great job decorating.

“I do apologize for the delay,” Headmistress McGonagall said from the doorway, making everyone jump. “I was unavailable temporarily whilst attending to some first years.”

“Not a problem, Headmistress,” Harry heard Malfoy say loudly behind him. “We’ve just been enjoying the show.” He turned to see Malfoy pointing at Ron and Hermione. Pansy giggled beside him as he rolled his eyes.

“Of course,” McGonagall said, pursing her lips before raising her voice. “Everybody, follow me.”

She paused, however, looking around the room. “Oh dear,” she muttered as she drew her wand, “this simply won’t do.”

With a flick of McGonagall’s wand, the streamers and sofas, which some students had to jump off, flew into the air, settling in different places. The sofas were spread around the room, the colours mingling together, and out of nowhere pink loveseats were added in a corner as well. The ribbons were dangling in different places too, the colours joining together. The red and green ones next to the window made a gorgeous Christmas-like patterned light on the wall from the sun.

“Excellent. I hope you use this year as a chance to bond, with some inter-house mingling. Now is the time for grudges to fade.”

Harry looked over at Malfoy again, instantly turning away when their eyes met as all the eighth years followed McGonagall to the dorms.

“Need I point out the bathroom?” McGonagall said, waving a hand towards the bathroom. The tiles were plain, and there were many shower stalls. Connected onto it were two other, smaller bathrooms, containing toilet stalls. One for the boys, the other for the girls. The walls of all three were a light blue, indicating what Harry could guess was calmness.

Up the stairs, the dorms were not separated into houses.

“Now, you must all understand, this sleeping arrangement is only temporary until the section of the castle I was originally going to put you in, connected to the left of your Common Room, is repaired. Until then, you will be in pairs.”

“How long will it take?” Neville asked.

“I cannot say,” McGonagall answered, “but when the new dorms are made, you will all get one to yourselves, with a bathroom shared between two of you."

A murmur of hopeful positivity floated around, and the Headmistress continued her tour. Looking inside some of them as McGonagall began assigning people, Harry could see how the different colours were put together. Some were blue and red, others yellow and green, blue and green, red and yellow, and so on. The decorations were again quite tasteful, and he noticed two four-poster beds, one of each house colour, with matching curtains around them.

“Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said loudly, pulling him away from his investigation. They were outside a green and red dorm, and his heart sank. _She wouldn’t_ , he thought to himself. _Would she?_

“You will be sharing with Mr. Malfoy.”

He groaned internally, but nodded and went inside, straight to the red and gold bed. His trunk popped into existence in front of him, and it took him a moment to see the house elf underneath it. He freed her, and she smiled her thanks, before disappearing. Harry didn’t bother looking up when he heard Malfoy enter.

“What kind of game is she playing?” the blond snarled. “Making _us_ share a room? The war must have made her delusional!”

“Save your breath, Malfoy, she’s perfectly fine,” he responded with a roll of his eyes. “I’m sure a while with me won’t kill you.”

“Sure it won’t,” he answered dramatically. Harry sighed as he unpacked.

*

“She made you share with Malfoy?” Ron exclaimed. Harry hushed him as Hermione whacked his arm.

“To be fair, Ronald, she’s making me stay with Pansy,” she said.

“But Pansy isn’t as bad as Malfoy,” Ron said indignantly. “That faggot will do anything to upset you, Harry.”

“I don’t know Ron,” he responded truthfully. His best friend looked at him like he’d just killed someone. “He seems to have changed. I mean, he’s still arrogant, but not _as_ arrogant. I think he’s the same as us, readjusting to what happened in the war.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, next you’ll be forgiving him for everything.”

“That’s the thing, Ron. I already have. And you heard what McGonagall said: it’s time to let go of old grudges.”

“Harry, mate, that’s not quite what she meant.”

“It is, actually,” Hermione piped in. “Harry has forgiven Malfoy, I think we can too. Besides, he practically has no one left. It is just him, Pansy, Blaise and Theodore.”

“And we’re supposed to care?” Ginny said as she settled beside Harry, giving him a sloppy kiss. “Morning."

“See, what you all aren’t understanding is that I have been in his position. Technically speaking, he and I have the same problem,” Harry said with importance. “I have no parents, and you lot are basically all I have. Except, Malfoy has even less now. Sure, he has a mansion, expensive clothes, everything he wants, but his reputation has been run into the ground, and it is starting to change him. He is becoming a different person.”

“Time will tell,” Hermione added with a yawn.

“Alright,” Ron said, raising his hands in defeat. “But if I notice something even slightly off about him, I _will_ hex his balls off.”

“Fair call,” Ginny agreed with a grin. She pecked Harry’s cheek as she left, taking her half-eaten bread roll with her.

“I’m heading to bed. In case you’ve forgotten, we’ve got double potions first thing tomorrow morning,” Hermione said matter-of-factly as she stood. Ron groaned.

“First class of the year is double potions. Excellent.”

Harry watched his friends leave, before risking a glance at the Slytherin table, to see Malfoy conversing with Pansy. She was smirking at him, almost teasingly, and he was trying his best to ignore her.

“Harry Potter. How great to see you again.”

He swivelled in his seat, to see Nearly Headless Nick floating in front of him, bowing respectfully and letting his head fling forward. He ignored the horrified looks of the first years around him and smiled at the ghost warmly.

“Sir Nicholas. Had a good holiday?”

“Not exactly,” the ghost pouted, frowning at him. “You see, I- “

“Let me guess, still can’t join the Headless Hunt?”

Nick smiled at him knowingly. “Ah, you get me, my boy! Yes, my request to join the Headless Hunt was once again declined. They don’t seem to understand my situation. But, no, I was going to inform you of something else.” Harry was about to ask what, when he drifted closer, and whispered: “But before I do, you must promise me you won’t tell the Headmistress that I told you.” He nodded, and the ghost continued, retaking his previous position.

“I was floating through the castle over the holidays, when I swung by the hospital wing, and something, some _one_ , caught my eye. I was so shocked, I figured I’d have to tell someone, and you were the first person I thought of.”

“Shocked?” Harry furrowed his brow. “How so?”

“Someone turned up. Someone I thought had died in the battle.”

“Who?”

“Someone I’d, I’ll be honest, have liked to have actually been dead.”

“Nick, who is it?”

“Someone- “

“Nick, just tell me!”

“The potions master! He’s alive! He was recovering in the castle this whole time!”

Harry widened his eyes in shock, and he heard a gasp from behind him before Malfoy’s voice said;

“You don’t mean…”

“The mean one, with the ridiculous hair. Always cold and cranky. Gah, what was his name?” The ghost scratched his forehead. “Snopey? Snapple? Snipe?”

“Snape? Professor Snape?”

“That’s the one! Thank you, uh,” the ghost peered over Harry’s head, “Mr. Malfoy.”

“Snape’s alive?” Harry asked in bewilderment. “How?”

He was about to get a response, when Headmistress McGonagall arrived, looking incredibly unimpressed at Nearly Headless Nick.

“I- oh dear,” the ghost said quietly.”

McGonagall turned to Harry and softened her expression. “Potter, perhaps you should head back to your dorm.”

He nodded, leaving his barely touched treacle tart behind as he rushed to inform Ron and Hermione.


	3. The Mingling

“Did you try faking an injury?”

“Of course I did, but Madam Pomfrey wasn’t fooled. She knows I’m trying to see him, to see if the rumours are true.”

“I’m not surprised she’s cautious. This is Snape we’re talking about, after all. I’m not sure why you’re so fussed though. He was just a teacher.”

“He’s more than that to me, Pansy. You know that.”

She frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

Draco raised his eyebrows at her, and she paled when she remembered.

“Oh, right. Yes. Well then, it looks like you need to take things to the next level.”

Draco looked at Pansy in confusion, and was about to ask what she meant when the classroom door opened, and in entered Professor Slughorn. His robes were ashy, indicating he’d failed at making another potion. Draco smirked at the idea of something vile exploding in the old professor’s face, and had to smother a laugh.

“Good morning, good morning,” Slughorn boomed with a grin. “Great to see you all again! Now, unfortunately, we don’t have time for practice potion-making. The assignment the Headmistress has set for you will take this whole term, so it’s best we get started.

“This task is to test your intensity and creativity in potion making, so I’m hoping you’ll enjoy it. In pairs, you will research a potion, and find a way to modify it; whether you make it useable, or simply more fun. Any questions?”

Silence condemned the room. The shock of having such a large task for the first class of the day struck everyone hard, and looking around at the tired faces, Draco could see distress seeping into them.

“I was going to pair you all, but I figured it would be inconvenient.” Slughorn thought about this for a moment. “Although, if I let you all choose, there will be reluctance to mingle with other houses, yes?”

A murmur of disagreement floated around the room, and Slughorn sighed.

“Well, choose your partners then. But you must choose someone from a different house.”

Draco’s heart fluttered at the opportunity, and he looked instantly to Potter. He had a chance to spend time with him. _Would he let me?_ He thought to himself.

The room was dead quiet, and no one dared to move.

“Well, come on,” Slughorn encouraged, “or I’ll have to decide for you.”

Some began looking around, locking eyes with someone they might be able to tolerate, although no one as much as glanced at the Slytherins. The incredulous stillness of the room was unsettling, so Draco followed his heart for once. He stood, and walked straight to Potter, plonking himself beside him. The raven-haired boy looked up in shock, and Draco shot him a smile. He could have sworn a slight blush had shown itself before the boy turned away.

“Excellent example, Mr. Malfoy,” Slughorn boomed, smiling at him, before turning to the rest of the class. Almost everyone had stood at the sudden movement, and they began to awkwardly partner up. Pansy sat next to Hermione, giving Draco a thumbs up. _Good idea_ she mouthed. _Make a move!_ He rolled her eyes at her, and grinned.

“You don’t mind partnering me with you?” he asked coolly, turning to his partner.

“Not at all,” Potter responded.

“Of course not. You need the help of the class’s best potioneer because, let’s face it, you’re pants at potions.”

The boy turned to him with a glare. “I am not _that_ bad, thank you very much.”

*

“Sorry Malfoy, let me get this straight: you want to redesign Poly Juice potion to be used to assume the form of animals?”

“Is that not what I’ve told you twenty times already?”

Potter sighed heavily, leaning against his bed with his arms crossed, looking incredibly unimpressed. “How are we going to manage that?”

“Well, I guess we’re _not_ if you’re going to have that little confidence in me.” Draco mimicked Potter’ body language, making him loosen and give a small smile.

“Well, since you consider yourself to be a master of potions, I assume you’ve already been to the library?”

Draco gave his wand a lazy flick, and the books he’d found floated into view. Potter nodded, clearly impressed.

“Can’t expect anything less from an insufferable nerd,” he mumbled. He rubbed his eyes in exhaustion, and Draco cursed himself for noticing how much they sparkled, and how bright a green they were. “Look, let’s read these tomorrow. I don’t know about you, but dinner and bed sounds like a good idea.”

He muttered a quiet response, his heart pounding as Potter pushed past him to the door, brushing against his shoulder.

A bed of green and silver was just what Draco needed that time of night. Something relaxing, somewhere away from Potter’s emerald eyes, away from the ignored rumble of his stomach.

A smile played on Draco’s lips as he pulled the blanket up over his chest, and he compared the deep green of his pajamas to the lighter toned fabric covering him, and smirked. A sparkle caught his eyes, and he peered over to the window above Potter’s bed, to see a full moon glistening at him.

He’d always loved looking at the moon and stars. It was alleviating, a full-filling comfort he could endow himself in for eternity.

Bright silver caught his eye just a meter or so from the Gryffindor four-poster. He sat up, transfixed. His body suddenly wasn’t in his control, and he trudged over to it, and picked it up.

The material was incredibly soft, and placing a hand underneath it made it disappear. Draco’s eyes widened when he identified what it was. He stood there for what felt like ages, as a plan engineered itself into his mind as he rubbed the fabric between his thumb and forefinger, and he lifted it up above him.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He spun at the words, dropping the Invisibility Cloak back where it had been. Potter was standing behind him, a snarl disguising his face. In all their rivalry, Draco had never seen him look as angry as he did now. Except for that one time—no, he wasn’t going to think about that right now.

“I was just curious,” he murmured, making a move towards his bed. Potter blocked his path however, his arms crossed over his chest. An angry heat was radiating off him, and Draco raising an eyebrow did nothing to help ease his mood.

“That doesn’t explain the fact you were about to wear _my_ Invisibility Cloak.”

He paused, opening his mouth to retort, but decided against it. He was done with petty arguments and lies. It was time for the truth.

“I just wanted to borrow it,” he said quietly, avoiding Potter’s eyes. “I need to know if the rumours are true. I need to see- “

“Snape? You want to go looking for Snape?”

They stared at each other for a moment, Potter’s distractingly green eyes deterring Draco’s mind.

“I- yes. You see, I, uh…”

“I was going to do the same.”

Dead silence panned between them for a moment. “I was just here to retrieve this actually.”

Draco nodded and watched Potter lift the cloak. He nibbled his lip, before turning back to his bed.

“Where are you going?”

He looked back to see his old rival holding the cloak above the left half of him, with enough room to hide them both.

“Are you being serious?” he snarked. “Us, sneaking around the school together? Not a chance.”

Potter glared at him. “Fine. I’ll go alone.”

Draco watched as he disappeared. He berated himself for being rude again and breathed deeply as he changed his mind.

“Potter, wait, maybe just this once?”

There was no response, and Draco knew he’d missed his chance. He sulked his way back under his covers and rubbed his face against his pillow, his stomach’s growling echoing around his body.


	4. Reveal

Harry backed himself flush against the wall as the Hufflepuff Prefects wandered past him. He released his breath as they turned the corner, and continued onwards to the Infirmary. Of course, Malfoy would be enough of a prick to not be close to him for, what, an hour? Sure, they were stuck sharing a room and potions project, but he never saw him at meal times, and they were hardly in their dorm together. He could only suspect he was up to something, but after six years of watching his rival sneak around, he was sick of it. If Malfoy was scheming against anybody, it would be someone else’s problem, not his. He vowed this to himself quietly as he traipsed forward.

Harry remembered telling Ron and Hermione what Sir Nicholas had said, and the shocked looks on their faces as they tried to discern just how the potion’s master had survived.

“It can’t be true,” Ron emphasized. “We saw him die, right in front of us.”

“Nothing’s impossible Ron,” Hermione answered with a roll of her eyes. “We’ll just have to see if Nick’s right, won’t we?”

“We will,” Harry muttered quietly under his breath, breaking away from the conversation embedded in his mind. “We will.”

He turned another corner and gasped as he noticed Mrs Norris in front of him. She meowed, her blood-red eyes looking deep into his. He knew she could see him, although he couldn’t say how. She followed him as he walked backwards, speeding up as he quickened his pace.

He turned and began to run as he heard Filch’s gruff voice.

“What did you see, my lovely?”

Glancing back, he saw a lamp swing around the corner, followed by the old caretaker’s sunken face. He paced himself, moving backwards again, Mrs Norris still hot on his trail. He yelped in shock as the cat leapt at him, and he swerved out of the way just in time, hitting his head on the wall. At the same time, a crash echoed from further down the hall, and he pressed himself against the cold stone again as Filch went darting past him, yelling. 

“Who’s there? Show yourself!”  
  
Once all the noise had depleted to silence, Harry moved back towards the Infirmary. A noise behind him made him turn around, and he saw a jet of blonde hair dart behind a suit of armour as Filch’s voice became loud once again. He squinted around the corner to get a better look at the blonde intruder.

“I know you’re over there,” he barked, his light coming back into view. “You can’t hide from me.”

The guy darted towards Harry, and both boys cried out as they collided.

“What the hell? Potter?” Malfoy hissed.

“Malfoy! What on earth- “

“Who’s there?”

The gruff voice was louder now, and they both scrambled up. Without thinking, Harry threw the cloak over Malfoy and himself, and shoulder to shoulder, they snuck away.

“You really thought you’d make it here in the dead of night with the caretaker and his cat wandering the halls?” Harry snarled quietly, risking a look at the blonde boy.

“I thought I’d try,” Malfoy responded harshly. “I didn’t expect to succeed.”

“You’re just lucky I was right there, huh?”

“If you weren’t there, Potter, I wouldn’t have run into you, and we wouldn’t be stuck here.”

Harry glared at him in disgust. “You’re an ungrateful prat, you know that?”

Malfoy was quiet as they approached the Infirmary door. Harry reached up to open it, to find it was locked.

“Alohomora,” Malfoy whispered, before pushing it open. They walked on in, passing through the empty reception area, and heading straight to the ward they could hear hushed voices coming from. He wasn’t surprised when he saw Madam Pomfrey fussing over someone in a hospital bed. The two boys crept over, keeping their steps slow and quiet as they made their way into a position they could inspect the scene from.

“I’ve already told you,” came Pomfrey’s voice, “you won’t be fit to leave here for months."

“Can I at least have visitors?” the familiar dark voice said. Harry turned to Malfoy to see him staring wide-eyed at the bed, his face a look of shock but happiness. Typical, Harry thought, he must think Snape will return to teach potions.

“I suppose,” Pomfrey answered with a sigh. “Not daily, of course, but on occasion.”

“Thank you, Poppy,” Snape replied, and Harry was surprised at how sincere his voice was. The nurse nodded at him, before backing off and closing the curtains around the hospital bed.

“I need to speak to him,” Draco said quietly when Madam Pomfrey was out of earshot, his hand about to tug the cloak off him.

“Are you barking mad?” Harry retorted, dragging both of them away from Snape. “He’s not going to want to see you at eleven at night Malfoy!”

“You don’t know that,” Malfoy murmured.

“Believe me, no one, especially cranky potion masters, wants to be disturbed in the middle of the night.”

“Shove out of it, Potter.”

“Malfoy, don’t even.”

“I’ll talk to my Godfather if I want to dammit!”

Malfoy’s face softened when he said that, and he ran a hand through his hair anxiously.

“Your… what?”

Malfoy fumbled, and his face tweaked a frown. “Severus is my Godfather, okay? And with both my parents gone, he’s all I have to turn to. I thought I’d lost him, but he’s here and… I need to talk to him.”

Harry’s mind whirred, and his gut twisted painfully in guilt. He knew how it felt to have no one. He nodded as he muttered an apology.

“You coming with me, or…?”

He looked at his old rival, watching his beautiful grey eyes fill with tears as he lifted the cloak off himself. Harry nodded and gave him a gentle smile, before realizing Malfoy couldn’t see him and uncovered himself too. He followed Malfoy to the pristine white curtain and watched a pale hand grasp and tug it open. Snape’s wide eyes found them immediately, and to Harry’s shock, he smiled.

“Draco,” he said quietly, as the blonde darted to him. He hugged his Godson warmly, and as Harry watched them, he took in Snape’s appearance. His eyes were cloudy, and fading snake bites masked his face and exposed neck. He was wearing a white hospital gown, which made him seen much gentler, and a bunch of machinery was connected to him, the only gadget Harry could identify being the IV drip.

It took him a moment to notice Snape’s eyes on him, and he awkwardly hinted a smile.

“Good to see you, Potter,” he said softly. With those words, away went seven years of hatred, and Harry found himself feeling sorry for his old Professor.

“Good to see you too Professor,” he answered. He looked down to Malfoy to see him shaking, and as he took it in, he realized he was sobbing.

They stood in awkward silence for a moment, Snape stroking Malfoy’s hair pacifyingly until the blonde calmed down enough to raise his head and speak.

“I-I thought – “

“Everything’s alright, Draco,” Snape said calmly. “Everything’s alright.”

It took Harry a moment to realize the fogginess of his vision, and he wiped away the tears in his eyes, diminishing his smile in the same movement. Did he really care this much for his two old rivals?

“Now, Mr Potter, I’ll ask you this, considering you’re the one who owns an invisibility cloak: why are you two travelling around the castle at this hour?” Snape asked, hinting a slight smile, although his voice was somewhat colder than before.

“We needed to see if the rumours were true,” he blurted truthfully. “We’d heard you were here, and we needed to see you.”

“I needed to know you were alive,” Malfoy said loudly. A painful silence engulfed them for a moment, and Malfoy rested his head back against Snape’s chest and began to heave with more heavy sobs. Harry took this as his signal to leave.

“I’ll… let you two talk,” he said quietly, before retrieving his cloak and leaving the pair behind. A soft “thank you” from Snape followed him out the door as he disappeared from their sight.


	5. A Spoonful O' Problems

“Careful, Potter. _Careful!_ It has to be stirred for another 43 seconds exactly!”

Harry rolled his eyes and continued to gently stir. After those precise 43 seconds, the potion bubbled, and Malfoy nodded. “Excellent. No explosions this time.” His gaunt face hinted a small smile, and he turned away to read the next instructions.

Over a month had passed since they’d visited Snape together, and Harry had noticed Malfoy sneaking out in the middle of the night ever since. He’d given up denying him the use of his Invisibility Cloak, and simply watched the blonde disappear underneath it. Each night the blonde would return, awakening Harry with his soft sniffles.

“Next, our test ingredient, yeah?” he asked, glancing at Malfoy.

“Correct.”

Harry eyed the spoonful of ground Aconite roots. “Explain to me again why these roots should help?”

Malfoy lowered the spoon and glared at him. “Brewing Polyjuice potion is incredibly meticulous – one wrong move and it’s up in smoke. Aconite roots are generally used for healing potions as they contain an unidentified vitamin that helps with simple pains such as headaches. This vitamin is also used to calm potions, making them less dangerous and providing them with more uses. After adding them and animal hair, no such drastic reaction should occur between the two.”

“Allowing us to take the form of the animal?”

The blonde hummed and nodded, gently raising the roots again before tipping them in.

“Stirring calculations?” Harry asked dully.

“Twenty-six minutes.”

Sighing, Harry retrieved another stirring implement, inspected it to ensure it was completely clean, and started to stir. Heat crept into his cheeks as he felt Malfoy fluttering around behind him, undoubtedly cleaning.

“Honestly, Potter, when I told you to measure everything, I didn’t demand for a mess!” he huffed, and Harry had to smirk at how weary he sounded.

“Well, measure everything yourself next time.”

“Oh, sure, only if I get credited for everything, considering your sorry ass would then fail. I’d have a laugh seeing you receive an F.”

“Piss off.”

The clattering continued behind him as he stirred, focusing on keeping a steady rhythm. Their conversation today had been gentle, almost friendly. It was as if their grudges had disappeared with McGonagall’s words on the first day. Nothing had been painful, or offensive. Well, that was until-

“How’s Snape doing?” he heard himself ask out of the blue. He’d meant it to be casual, like a friend making small talk with another friend. Malfoy clearly disagreed, as a sharp intake of breath behind him alerted him to his mistake. He swallowed as he waited for a reply.

“He’s fine. Why should you care?”

Malfoy’s tone was dripping with malice. His question made Harry wince. _Why wouldn’t I care?_ He thought, though he’d never have the guts to say it aloud.

“Can’t I be civil with you Malfoy, without earning your hateful responses?”

“Can’t you shut up and focus on helping us pass?”

Harry sighed, and abandoned the painful conversation, instead asking, “how much longer?”

Malfoy returned to his side with the stopwatch. “17 minutes”, he said with a sigh. Another sound echoed, and he heard Draco snarl, “we’re busy, Weaslette, what do you want?”

Ginny crossed into the room, her arms folded. “Trying to stop me from talking to my boyfriend now, Malfoy? That’s a new low, even for you.”

“Can I not ask for a few hours with my partner in order for us to get flying colours for this task?”

“A few hours? What are you two doing in here, snogging?”

Malfoy had nothing to say after that, and returned to cleaning, flustered. Ginny rested a hand on Harry’s head, smiling at him gently. He had to partially ignore her so he could focus on stirring, but acknowledged her enough to earn a kiss.

“Evening, Gin. Look, now’s really not the time. Malfoy and I are busy with our potions task…”

“I can see that.” She kissed his forehead again, and Harry had to ignore Malfoy’s forced retching noise. “I worried when you weren’t at dinner, I’ll admit that.” She stared at Harry intently, almost distracting him from his task. He gulped and looked back to the potion, gripping it now with two shaking hands.

“Quit being Miss Goo-Goo eyes with him, Weasley, and leave him to work,” Malfoy said in disgust. “I don’t want to be a mess on the walls.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she retorted, before redirecting back to Harry. “When’ll you be done?”

“Sometime before Christmas, I hope.” Ginny giggled softly, and kissed him a third time, before skipping to the door.

“Don’t be too long!” she called as she left. A heavy noise indicated to Harry that Malfoy had closed the door behind her, and he heard him mutter a locking spell.

“Sometime before Christmas, huh? What’s that supposed to mean, Potter?” Harry sighed, unable to ignore the smirk in Malfoy’s tone.

“It’s a muggle saying. It means I hope we get this right the first time, without any issues.”

A moment of silence passed.

“How much longer must I keep this up?” he whined. Malfoy scoffed behind him.

“See what I mean about ‘pants at potions’, Potter? A real potion’s master wouldn’t whine like an insufferable child about stirring.”

“How much longer, Malfoy?” Harry asked again, through gritted teeth.

Malfoy placed himself next to Harry’s ear, and whispered, almost torturously:  “11 minutes, Potter.”

Harry groaned, his hand aching with cramps as he continued to stir. What felt like hours passed, and he felt himself getting drowsy, barely feeling Malfoy plonk himself down on the seat opposite.

“Don’t slow down, Potter!” Malfoy growled, jolting Harry fully awake. His hand was over Harry’s for a moment, pulling it in the circular mixing motion. The contact made him feel like releasing the implement, but Malfoy’s grip was firm but fleeting, and soon he was mixing the potion on his own again.

More time passed, and soon Malfoy was standing just behind him, a presence watching his every move.

“Ten seconds… five, four, three, two- “

A sudden ringing sounded in Harry’s ears, and he barely registered being thrown against the far wall of the room. A yell sounded to his right, and he turned to see Malfoy’s wide eyes open in shock, a small amount of blood on his forehead after evidently being slammed into the corner of the table.

Turning back to the cauldron, Harry shielded his eyes from the threateningly bright light of the fire burning their oxygen and growing rapidly. It engulfed their notes, feeding it into spreading across the tables.

His mind whirring, he drew his wand and attempted to cast the Flame-Freezing Charm he’d taught himself in his spare time. The failed attempt simply trailed the fire to block their exit. Coughing, he tried again, his hand-movement slackening as his vision became blurry. He saw Malfoy stumbling next to him in his peripherals, his grey eyes watering from the smoke.

Harry’s head became heavy, and he too attempted to stand. Fire raged in front of him, making him blunder backwards, landing on top of a discarded cauldron. He attempted to draw breath, but the small room had essentially run out of oxygen.

 _How sad,_ he thought dryly, _the wizarding world’s hero is going to die of smoke inhalation._

He stood, stumbling and blinded by smoke, before hearing a loud, “protego!” and a sudden bubble appeared, stopping the nearby flames he hadn’t seen from licking him up. Voices sounded in the hallway, almost unheard above the roaring of the flames directly in front of the door. Harry heard that same voice, presumably Malfoy, yell, “aguamenti!”

Water began to appear out of thin air over the fire, dampening it slightly, but causing steam and more smoke to erupt from it, almost like a volcano. The appearing water redirected itself towards the door, smothering and putting out the flames there, and as Harry stepped up to Malfoy, the blonde waved his hand at him expectedly.

“Alohomora!” Harry coughed out exasperatedly, unlocking the door. Whomever was on the other side must have heard it click unlocked, as a white light spilled into Harry’s vision.

Or, so he thought. He was overheating, his mind blank. Something hard, presumably a stick, no his wand, dropped from his hand as he fell backwards, only barely getting his hands behind him. His chest felt tight, his head light, and his fingers tingly.

The light filled his vision almost completely as he laid back. He’d done enough fighting. Maybe, just _maybe_ , it was his turn to give up.

*

That bright light stayed with him, turning a slightly yellow hue as he slowly reopened his eyes. Looking around, he noticed he was in the hospital wing. His breathing was slightly laboured, and he couldn’t make out the voices situated to his left. All he recognized was the platinum-blonde boy sitting on the chair next to him, with a lady, Madame Pomfrey, he realized as his vision cleared up completely, attending to him.

“A potion’s task, you say, Mr Malfoy?”

“Yes,” was Malfoy’s hoarse reply.

“What potion?” Pomfrey pressed.

Harry watched as Malfoy swallowed. “Polyjuice.”

The mediwitch’s face would have been priceless, should this have been a joke. It was, of course, no laughing matter. “What? As a set task?”

“P-Potter and I decided we’d do Polyjuice potion to be different from everyone else.”

A door opened to Harry’s right, and he turned to see Professor Slughorn hurrying in. “You asked to see me, Poppy?” He caught Harry’s eye, and the smile on his face vanished. “Goodness me! What happened to you two?”

“An explosion and out-of-control fire happened,” Pomfrey answered for them. She noticed Harry was awake, and added, “you are to stay in bed, Mr Potter. Smoke inhalation got to your head. You may be discharged tomorrow, should the world continue to favour you.”

“Ah, yes, thank you, Poppy,” Slughorn said awkwardly. The mediwitch gave him a curt nod before abruptly leaving him to talk to his students. Slughorn turned to Malfoy, obviously less damaged than Harry, and began questioning him. “Care to explain?”

“We-well, sir, Potter and I are… we’re doing Polyjuice potion for the task you set us…”

“Merlin’s beard, Malfoy!” Slughorn’s face suddenly became a mask of shock and, surprisingly, anger. “Are you boys insane? Even a _slight_ hinderance whilst brewing that potion could lead to extravagant disasters!”

“We’re aware now, sir,” Harry piped in.

“It was my fault,” Malfoy blurted. Both Harry and Slughorn stared for a moment. “I… I didn’t clean it properly. The spoon used for the Aconite, I mean. There was still a speck or two of dust after the whole mess left on it.” He looked up sincerely. “The fault is mine.”

Silence settled between them, and Harry fidgeted. _Malfoy was taking responsibility?_

“Well, I hope you boys have learned your lesson. Fifty points, from Slytherin and Gryffindor each, for carelessness.” Slughorn looked at them disapprovingly before turning on his heel. Before leaving, however, he said loudly, “it’s not too late to change potions, you know.”

He left deftly after that, with Harry and Malfoy sitting in each other’s company, wallowing in how reckless they had been.

“Malfoy, can I just ask, _how the fuck did I get here_?” The blonde shrugged at the question, unfazed by Harry’s shock.

“McGonagall and Flitwick came into the room after you unlocked the door. They had the fire under control. I… I just focused on getting you out of there.” A pause. He laughed humorlessly. “Stupid huh, how a spoonful of an ingredient, contaminated with _dust_ of all things, could land us both in hospital?”

“Not with Polyjuice potion. No shock for it there.”

“Fair point.” Malfoy tilted his head at Harry. His grey eyes were diluted with something, something he’d never directed at Harry before. A feeling washed over him, and he was forced to look away.

Harry couldn’t let this rest with him. The feeling, the look in his eyes, what he’d said. Even hours after he’d been left alone to dwell on his thoughts, he didn’t understand. _Is Malfoy really changing this quickly?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Long time, no post. To be blunt, I simply haven't had any ideas, so I decided, "its chapter five, let's make them be kinda cute but still act like they hate each other, and as the cherry on top - EXPLOSION!" So, yeah. I realise this chapter makes, like, no sense. But, who cares?! We're having fun, right? Hehe...
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it guys <3


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